


Not the Fairytale Ending (The New World, New Beginning Remix)

by credoimprobus



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, FemmeRemix 2015, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, Past Snow/Charming, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/pseuds/credoimprobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Margaret's fairytale may be coming to an end, but there's a brand new one ready to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Fairytale Ending (The New World, New Beginning Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Leaving Fate Behind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/844849) by [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva). 



> Breaks from canon mid-season 2.

There's a cold knot in Mary Margaret's chest as she walks aimlessly through the streets, her argument with David playing over and over in her head. It's been building for a while, this friction between them, ever since it became clear they want different things from the future, but it's the first time it's brought them to as harsh words as it did tonight, things said that can't be taken back.

She regrets most of them already, but one thing she would never take back: if she had to make a choice between her husband and her daughter, she would always choose Emma. Mary Margaret fears this is what it may come to, if David insists on returning to the Enchanted Forest.

She wishes he could see this world the way she does: as the chance for a fresh start, a clean slate, somewhere they can start over and leave all the heartache and darkness of their past behind. David never lived through the curse the way the rest of them did, though, and without all those years of calling this town home behind him, he'll never understand that it's truly become one.

It's late enough that the streets of Storybrooke are mostly empty, but when Mary Margaret passes Granny's there's a wolf outside, dark head raised to the clear, starry sky. She would know that wolf anywhere, and there's answering recognition in the yellow eyes when Ruby swings her head around to watch her approach. Mary Margaret kneels down beside her and strokes the fur at her neck, taking solace in its softness, in the wordless connection between them.

Ruby seems to perceive her distress even in wolf form, nuzzling softly at Mary Margaret's palm and staring at her with an animal's guileless sympathy. Mary Margaret brings Ruby her cloak after a moment, and Ruby lets Mary Margaret into the diner once she's back to human, setting a slice of pie and a cup of coffee in front of her with a look that burns with held-in curiosity. Ruby doesn't ask, though, and Mary Margaret can't bring herself to explain; can't let herself admit that this may, ironically, finally be the thing that's too big for her and David to get through.

Maybe being here in Storybrooke means that fairytale endings are no longer real, even with the curse broken.

She stays at Granny's the whole night, Ruby sitting with her in companionable silence and bringing the occasional refill. It's comfortable, easy: a welcome relief from the tension that's grown slowly to fill every corner and crack of her home. She doesn't head for the door until the first customers of the morning have trickled in and Ruby leaves her side to serve them, as reluctant to return home as she is to part with the comfort of Ruby's company.

\---

She comes home with the intent to try making amends, but she's tired, and she and David only end up snapping at each other again. Things are tense between them for the whole day after, and Mary Margaret is sure Emma notices, the furtive looks their daughter shoots them at the dinner table speaking volumes. Emma does her best to cover for their awkward silence with Henry, and Mary Margaret can only hope that it's enough to keep him from noticing it, too.

It's too much for her by evening's close, and she takes off into the town's drowsy streets again, her feet bringing her to Granny's without much conscious thought. Ruby's waiting inside with more pie and coffee, as if she already knew Mary Margaret would be back; maybe she did.

Mary Margaret thinks that maybe she knew she'd be back, herself.

"Stay as long as you like. I've got nowhere to be," Ruby tells her as she slides the cup across the counter to her, an implicit promise that fills Mary Margaret's heart with gratitude.

"Neither do I," she says quietly, and Ruby looks at her with compassionate eyes, drapes her arm around Mary Margaret's shoulder when she takes a seat beside her. It's the last words they speak to each other for the night, but they don't really need any.

\---

Mary Margaret's back again the next night, slipping into the diner that's been left unlocked for her after closing time. Ruby gives her a searching look when she hands over a piece of lemon cheesecake, and asks carefully, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Mary Margaret sighs, curling her hands around her coffee cup and staring down into it. "No. Not really." She can't, not yet: she's still too busy trying to work it all through in her head, her thoughts and feelings all still too half-formed and uncertain to air. All she knows for sure is that she's starting to have doubts about the happy ending she worked so hard for.

Ruby smiles at her, soft and sad, and sits beside her. She says nothing more after that, leaving Mary Margaret to wrestle with her circling thoughts in peace, but it's enough: Ruby's soothingly undemanding presence at her side, the warmth from Ruby's skin where their arms almost touch, already say everything that's needed.

The closeness brings memories to the fore that Mary Margaret hasn't dwelt on in a long while -- memories of her and Red's brief time on the run together, two lost, heartsick young girls finding new hope with each other. What began as comfort in the quiet, still moments soon grew into something more, but it wasn't the fairytale ending either of them was meant to have, and so it was fated to come to an end.

The last couple of nights' lack of sleep catches up with Mary Margaret after a while, and she dozes off at the counter halfway through the night. When she wakes a few hours later, her cup and plate have been quietly cleared away to give her space, and there's a blanket tucked carefully around her shoulders. Ruby's nowhere to be seen, but Mary Margaret can hear her moving around in the back, making preparations for the morning rush.

Mary Margaret folds the blanket neatly and places it on her stool, smiling fondly as she lets her hand linger on it. She slips out before Ruby re-emerges from the staff area, but finds the order pad and a pen and leaves a simple note on top of the blanket: _Thank you._

\---

Mary Margaret is less and less certain, with every evening she finds her way back to Granny's, that she's doing this to escape from home anymore. The more time she spends close to Ruby, the stronger her reminiscences about what they had for a while grow, until she can't deny the truth to herself any longer: she misses it, misses _them_. It had faded from her mind with the whirlwind-like chain reaction that meeting Charming set in motion, the attachment she and Red shared receding into a devoted friendship when her heart found its home elsewhere.

Mary Margaret can't regret the things that supplanted it, not with everything she's gained, but as more old memories and feelings resurface, she can't help but play with what ifs. Maybe it could have worked for them; maybe she and Red could have been happy, escaped together to the safety of some other kingdom, living a simple, uncomplicated life away from it all. As uncomplicated as a fugitive from the Queen and a werewolf could manage, anyway.

It's easy to think now that it's all over, but in her heart, Mary Margaret knows that she could never have been at rest as long as her land and her people were in thrall to Regina. She knows it couldn't have worked, because it had been the wrong time for them.

But Mary Margaret is starting to think that there might be a right time for them, too.

The routine they've fallen into continues for a week, Ruby waiting for her with a fresh pot of coffee and the day's leftover baked goods when Mary Margaret steals in late in the evening. They still talk only sparsely, keeping to inconsequential matters the few times they do; Ruby is happy just to provide her with a space to be, for however long she needs it, and Mary Margaret is happy just to have Ruby there with her.

When she sits down for family dinner the seventh day, she looks across the table at David, at Emma and Henry, and it feels like a book closing at the end of its last chapter. She still loves David, probably always will, but sometimes love alone isn't enough. Not in this world.

She knows what she has to do will hurt them all, and it's going to kill her to break their hearts that way, but she has to be honest about how she's come to feel. She owes it both to them and to herself.

Mary Margaret leaves earlier than usual that night, and spends the time until Granny's closes wandering the streets of Storybrooke. She's too aware of how this will change the way everyone looks at her: she and David are the dream of happily ever after personified to the people of this town, and she's about to tear that dream down.

Ruby watches her more intently than usual once she arrives at Granny's, as if she senses that Mary Margaret is balanced on the brink of something. Ruby doesn't press, though, just sits with her and waits for her to get there in her own time.

Mary Margaret stares down at the piece of cherry pie in front of her, its red bright against the white of the plate, cuts the slice up into evenly sized pieces and arranges them into a pattern with fixed attention. Ruby's gaze, curious and concerned, sits heavy against her skin, until finally Mary Margaret says, "I can't do this anymore."

Ruby nods slowly and looks away, resignation plain in the line of her shoulders. Clearly she's been expecting this.

"Granny'll probably take my keys away at this rate, anyway," she jokes.

"That's not what I mean," Mary Margaret says, and Ruby looks back at her, turns around on her stool to face her. It probably takes all of Ruby's willpower not to ask, by the way Ruby's watching her.

"I don't know when it happened, but things have changed. I've changed." Mary Margaret inhales slowly before she goes on, a wry laugh threading through her breath. "I fought so hard for so long for this life, for our happy ending. It's supposed to be everything I ever wanted. But it's not."

Ruby breathes in, looking on the verge of saying something; when she stays silent, Mary Margaret reaches across the space between them and clasps Ruby's hands between hers. "We could make it work," she says, and tries with all her heart to believe it's true. There's so much that speaks against it, but Mary Margaret doesn't want to consider it, not right this moment.

"I don't think we could," Ruby disagrees, but there's a flicker of hope in her eyes that says she wants to believe it, too.

"We almost did, for a while," Mary Margaret says. She knows she's not the only one who remembers it, because now and then, this past week, Ruby has looked at her the way she would those nights in the woods.

Ruby smiles wistfully at her. "And then you met David."

"Nothing lasts forever."

Ruby says nothing, but the obvious rebuttal hangs between them nonetheless. _Except for true love._

The thing is, Mary Margaret is starting to believe that true love isn't as cut and dried as they all thought in the Enchanted Forest. They were taught that true love happens once in a lifetime, but she's less and less convinced that this is the case.

Maybe there's room in her heart for more than one true love.

She holds Ruby's hands tighter, and meets her warm, wide eyes beseechingly. "Me and David, we're over either way. So isn't it worth it to give it a shot?"

"Even if that's true, it's not that easy," Ruby says. "You know that."

"I know it's not. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

Ruby sighs, looking down at their linked hands in her lap, and shakes her head. "I don't know, Snow."

"Red," Mary Margaret says, and pours all her hope and love into her smile, into her words. "It's a new world. Why shouldn't we have a new start?"

She can tell it's struck a chord, the reserve in Ruby's face and posture dissolving, and when Mary Margaret leans forward Ruby meets her halfway, Ruby's lips soft against hers. Ruby sighs against Mary Margaret's mouth, slides her fingers into the short hair at the back of Mary Margaret's head, and it feels as if it was yesterday that they last did this.

"We could lose everything," Ruby says when they pull apart. "People might not take it very well."

"I know. But not everyone will, either."

"Everyone who counts probably will," Ruby says, and gives Mary Margaret a crooked smile. "Sure you're up for being the bad guy in the whole town's eyes again?"

"When do I ever take the easy way out?" Mary Margaret says, and Ruby laughs in acknowledgement, drops her gaze down as she draws a deep, steeling breath and lets it back out.

"Okay. If you're really sure...I guess I'm willing to try, too."

Mary Margaret takes Ruby's hand in hers and squeezes it tight, her smile wide and content. "That's all I need to hear."

It may not be the fairytale ending that was written for either of them, but in this world, what shape their happy endings should take is up to them alone.


End file.
